Catalyst
by Limey
Summary: You affect me in ways I hope you'll never know, Shu. You'd give yourself way too much credit. [A glance of Eiri's thoughts.]


Disclaimer: Gravitation not mine, although, if I could, I'd keep Eiri on the other end of my whip. Ehe. 

This is my first Gravi fanfic, also my first shounen-ai story written in all seriousness. I'm not going to ask for you to be kind, but to be honest as to whether Yuki or Shuichi—Yuki especially—are out of their elements. (This takes place after the anime OAVs are complete.)

Hope you like what you read. :)

Catalyst.________

            Love. Your love.

            Why do you love me?

            My chest rises and falls in time to yours as I let out a barely audible sigh, half content and half restless. You snuggle closer in your sleep, an unconscious and yet all too coincidental reaction to my thoughts, and my name sighs through your lips. It comes as naturally to you as breathing, now, doesn't it? I can't deny I love hearing you call me, no matter how many times I may complain. I blink, staring at the ceiling, letting myself smile. Realizing that with you by my side, I'm letting myself go.

            Do I know that you love me?

            You tell me you do all the time, whether it's with that annoyingly cute, energetic gusto…or with a whisper…or a longing gasp. I'd have to be an idiot to question where your heart lies, it seems. But a part of me is shrouded in doubt, even as your public declaration as my owner rings amusedly in my ears. I constantly snap at you and your weaknesses, and yet… I am the one who is weak. 

            There is a part of me that feels so old, that can see nothing but a stark future winding endlessly in front of him. He shrinks away from touch for what seems like an eternity, his past mistakes warding him away from hope. _You can't survive with your heart in plain sight,_ he says wisely, sadly, with the pain of a broken child. _It can only hurt. You can only hurt._

            I feel like I will always hurt. 

            So I tried (futilely, however, this was still unknown to me) to rid myself of you from the start—from that first night, when I stumbled upon those horrid lyrics of yours. I think of myself as a generally polite person, albeit a little cold at times. But your lyrics, full of the immature, inexperienced heart you're known so well for, angered something deep inside of me. And when your eyes met mine, I was startled—furious—not above emotions as I had previously assumed. I saw myself in your eyes. The me before New York, before Sensei…before he…

            The recollection of those times again made me hate you without even having to know you. It seemed so unfair to me, with my bitter logic, that I had suffered so much while you doodled irrelevant, ridiculous lyrics to pass the time. And I said awful things to you, without even knowing you, without really _caring_ if I hurt you. I _wanted_ to hurt you. 

            It doesn't please me to admit that I took pleasure in your heartbroken gaze, but I did. As I walked away, I took a drag off my cigarette and consoled myself...thought nothing of your anguished cries over how my harshness was completely unnecessary. If I would never see you again, what would it matter? You surely couldn't take those cross words of a stranger and let them faze you, could you? I decided that you could write me out of existence just as I would erase my brief encounter of you. 

            Strangely, however, erasing your violet-blue eyes from my memory was a lot harder than I had previously assumed, and the mental block infuriated me. What made it even worse was my utter attraction to the complete innocence in those same eyes. I was drawn to you, even though our meeting was brief. And it was with veiled satisfaction that I found your inability to let my harsh criticisms slide. 

            Did you really have to run in front of my brand-new car, though? A question I could probably answer myself now, after living with you for a while. 

            From that incident onward, more or less, you have been by my side. Whether you have been there of my own personal choice or not has varied, depending on my daily level of irritation. And I find myself confused at your unfounded dedication to me, time and time again. There are days that I can hardly stand living with myself, and you simply brush off my cold demeanor with a slight tilt of your head and a quiet, knowing smile. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever find the end to this limitless love of yours for me. During my more sentimental moments, I hope I never do.

            Your love is absolutely irrational... and you must know that. You never do anything but give, and take nothing but the chance to be near me always. I've always been the antithesis to that rationale, even if my romance novels convey otherwise. Didn't you understand the pain that you would endure if you kept looking at the world through rose-colored glasses? No matter how hard I try sometimes, I can never understand you. I'm rough around the edges, unpolished, unkind. I'm the worst, and I know it. And I tried my damnedest to make you realize this as well.

            Yet you stay a constant in my life, both the chaos that fills it and the one thing I can hold onto in spite of myself. 

            Damnit, you idiot boy, you're making me lose sleep again. I hate how much you make me think...I guess that after six years of not thinking, my brain has a fucking heyday whenever things quiet down around here. Or when we're not busy having sex. Making love, you call it, with that irritably cute blush on your cheeks. And some nights...most nights now, really...I'd wax poetical and agree. 

            But never out loud. Oh Lord, I don't think I could live with myself if I ever spewed that shit seriously. I'll leave that to my fictional characters and the women who buy into it. My face scrunches in horror at the thought of even muttering half of the romantic crap I put into my stories. 

            _"Shu-chan," I say gently, my chin trembling with a joyous smile, "I want you to know how much you mean to me—I'm only half a man without you, and I owe it to you to be honest about my feelings." I softly tilt his chin up to mine, drinking in the vision of him—this beautiful, and breath-taking boy. The man that I loved. "Let us consummate our love—give me a chance to show you how much I will always, always love you." _

I am absolutely repulsed. 

            Again I drift away from thinking with my sarcasm. Wit has always been a favorite defense mechanism of mine, I must admit. You've unfortunately caught onto this and have started taking my retorts at their true meaning, and not their face value. A definite problem if I were trying to push you away. But I can't...I'm finding I don't want to. And deep down, although I have yet to admit it, I know why. 

I'm so fucking selfish. Why can't I just tell you how I feel? I want to, but I can't say it outright. Besides, if I ever _did confess, you'd probably think I was dying of lung cancer or something. I'm not normally _that_ nice, right? But I think...I think you know. I may be a heartless bastard, but I have my momentary lapses around you. An arm lingering a little longer than usual around your shoulders, a stolen kiss before you fall asleep and become dead to the world. I run my fingers lightly through your soft hair, silently admiring your sleeping face. Damn the goofy, idiotic smile that irks at the corners of my mouth. I bend down to brush your forehead with my lips, against my better judgment and common sense, and breathe in your scent. These moments, these movements are tender. They have no place in seduction, or sex, or foreplay. _

I'm in love with you. Not because you're a persistent little bastard, not because you turn me on. It's not because you love me unconditionally, or because I need you...although I think that, in a way, we need each other. 

You give me something to come home to, something to look forward to. You make me think. You made me face what I had been running away from, like a petulant child. And it was you that awoke me from my numb, cold shell—made me realize that by running from the past, I constantly reminded myself I had something to run from. So I stopped running. I admitted that what had happened wasn't my fault. And I came home to you. 

You helped me grow up. I may have six years of catching up to do, but at least I know that healing is a possibility. I'm assuming you're blissfully ignorant of how profound our experiences together are, but that really isn't the point, is it? 

I guess I'm a lot more of a romantic than I had previously assumed. Those novels have to come from somewhere in me. 

"Yuki…" Not just a sigh anymore, but an imploring tone instead. My lips are still pressed softly to your forehead. I lean backwards to look into your eyes, my expression neutral. You smile sleepily, your bare arm snaking around my waist under the covers. "You look happy." 

"It's because you're asleep," I retort, "and not talking my ears off." And the sex tonight was particularly good, I think inwardly with a smirk. But you know this game and you see through my walls. "Stop staring at me like that," I speak up again as your eyes bore intensely into mine. "I'm not going away or anything, you know." You beam and snuggle into my arms, kissing my collarbone.

"I know. I'm glad." Silence on both our parts for a few minutes. I bet you're probably savoring the moment. I think I just said that I would stay with you for as long as you want to be with me. Oh well. I did say I had my lapses. You look up at me suddenly, your expression heartfelt and slightly flushed. Why do you have to be so fucking cute sometimes? I kiss you, your hand grabs slightly at my waist, and I'm losing myself in you again as the kiss deepens, running my hand through your hair and down your neck, trailing my fingers down your warm back...really, I am such a horny son of a bitch. Your tongue traces my lips tantalizingly, but before I can claim your mouth again you pull away teasingly, grinning. I growl, my face turning sour. You know how much I hate it when you tease me.

"Why are you grinning like an idiot, hm?" I say testily, obviously irritated at the fact that our hands are still in relatively decent places. Your grin lingers for a while longer, then fades into a soft smile. 

"I love you, Yuki," you say quietly, with ease. My hand leaves the small of your back and rests on your face, fingers barely touching your cheek. 

I love you too, Shu. And I bet you know it, don't you? You cocky bastard...

"Shut up and get over here," I say gruffly, pulling you and your lips to mine again. I can't stand that knowing look on your face.

Maybe someday I'll grow to the point where saying 'I love you' won't be as painful as meeting some God-awful deadline. Wouldn't that be nice. 

You know, I still haven't figured out why you love me so damn much, but...as of the moment, there are more..._pressing matters at hand._

* owari. * 

            The Gravitation OAVs inspired me to write this little ficcie. _"Could this be love?" Eiri muses._ I just felt like expanding upon his personal thoughts. Of course, this also reflects my personal opinions on Eiri's love for Shuichi. Sure, they need each other, but Eiri never seemed like the type of person to settle for something as weak as that. Heh. Hope that wasn't excessively fluffy—if there is fluff, I can't help it. Eiri deserves to be happy at SOME point in his life, don't you think? And with Shuichi around, he should be satisfied in one way or another for a long time. :) 

            Why the title? Because it fits. Why do I always write better at night? Because I do. Thanks for reading.

- Limey (Kris)


End file.
